


Do You Miss The Apocalypse?

by LittleSilverBirds



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 19:17:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1237915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSilverBirds/pseuds/LittleSilverBirds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I wrote this a little while ago, I just wanted to post because its sitting gathering dust</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do You Miss The Apocalypse?

"Do you miss the apocalypse?"

An odd thing to inquire, but not so oddly appropriate. He does.

Things were simpler then. More black and white. Now theres grey areas that he doesnt want to look into. Grey areas he pushes issues into and pulls lies out of. Too many things.

It used to be as easy as going from one job to the next. Find dad is a distant memory. Hell dad himself is a distant memory. Hell sticks with him though, every night. Yeah, he hated the apocalypse at the time, he wanted it all to go away so it was just him and Sam like it used to be. But looking back now he thought it just looked like a walk in the park compared to all this tablets crap.

"No," he replied, keeping his eyes on the road with a quick glance over at the man at his side, the angel with the stolen grace.

Other cars passed them by and he wondered why Cas was even here with him when he could just think of the place he wanted to be and appear there like magic. Why he was asking such inane questions. Usually he'd be gone by now, disappearing for days, weeks sometimes. He knew Cas was staring at him again, he was used to it by now though. He did find it creepy at first, then there were the times he woke up and Cas was there staring at him like he was worth something to this whole damn mess.

"You're lying," he stated matter-of-factly. And it almost made him smile for a second, reminding him of the good old days. Those days when he'd tell a joke, or laugh at something he'd said or done and Cas wouldnt understand, or tell him how illogical it was.

_Dean that's physically impossible._

_Okay Spock, dont get your panties in a twist._

"Then why'd you ask then?"

Its late and he'd either have to stop somewhere for a few hours or hope that he could make it the last fifty or so miles to home. He definitely didnt trust Cas behind the wheel of his car, he didnt even know if the guy could drive. He wanted to die with a gun in his hand not 'cos of bad driving. A quick look over to Cas, and the angel shrugged, staring out of his window with his face so close to the glass it fogged with his breath. From the corner of his eye he saw him reach up with a finger to draw a sort of symbol in the moisture. Such simple things, almost too ordinary, too human for him.

"It was too quiet."

The radio was playing softly, turning it up would make no difference. He knows what that means. Maybe Castiel wasnt all there, or he'd picked up a few mannerisms from being human, or maybe he was just too human to be an angel at all. Cas sighs and lets his forehead fall to touch the cold window, the rain still fell steadily and the droplets caught on the glass captured the rainbow of lights from cars passing by.

He seemed tired, which was strange. He'd never seemed tired before, not even in the future when Dean saw the twisted, high, broken version of this Cas. Then he'd just seemed like he'd sown himself back together with the drugs and everything else to keep from falling apart completely. It was actually sort of heartbreaking when he'd seen him like that, how hard he'd fallen.

"I miss it," he murmurs, Dean thought he might've been talking to himself, "The apocalypse."

"Dare I ask why?"

Cas doesnt answer right away. And Dean doesnt push him. He doesnt ask again, he leaves him. Theres no rush right now, in this car they're in a sort of limbo like nothing can touch them. Maybe thats why Cas appeared here about an hour ago without a word looking a little worn down and in need of a long holiday to nowhere. He hasnt seen him in a week, maybe because he's just been drifting for a week. Now he's on his way back to the bunker and whatever lies there. Be it a welcome or an empty shell of brick and leatherbound books. He's starting to wish that maybe the apocalypse had gone on a little longer, because it might've turned out different.

"Because," Cas speaks at last, "It was easy. Orders were orders, fights were fights, humans were humans and the rest were the rest."

Dean would have to stop soon, he's getting tired and his blinks are getting longer. Wont be long before he's falling asleep at the wheel. There's a turn off coming up, he'll go park up there and have a couple hours before driving the last leg of the way home.

Cas is right though. It was easier. It was right or left, no middleground, no blurry lines that wouldnt matter if you crossed because you're damned anyway. Because now theres three options. You can fight and die, you can run and never stop, or you can hole up somewhere and hope it all blows over. No one knows whats right anymore, no one knows whats wrong. Its all a stupid mess that anyone sane would say no to.

He's parking up now, a dark side road that looks like it might've been a real track at some point but is too grown over to be much use at all. Cas shifts in his seat and for a moment, Dean thinks he's gonna just disappear on him again. But he stay's put. Even slips down on the leather like he's getting more comfortable, his hands folded on his stomach. Dean waits for him to say something, instead he leans on the door again, letting out a long breath through his nose and closing his eyes. If Dean didnt know better, he'd have thought Cas had fallen asleep. But he's an angel, angels dont sleep. Sure they go into a sort of sleep-mode if they're too damaged, like they're rebooting their systems. But Cas seems okay, physically anyway. None of them are okay in the head, not really.

"Hey, Cas," he says after a minute, and Cas opens his eyes, "You okay? Just humor me." Castiel turned his head, and he isnt even frowning for once. Just looking at him with half lidded eyes like he didnt have the energy to reply. One slow blink, and another, and Cas ends up looking down at his hands again. The rain is the only sound as it hammers on the roof of the Impala, runs down the windscreen. And the angel shakes his head.

"I'm tired," he tells Dean, "Of everything. Do you ever wish it'd just go back to the way everything was? Back to the start? To when..." he trails off, leaving Dean in silence again.

"Yeah, I do. What would've happened if it'd been another guy who pulled me out of Hell?" Its a stupid question, but he's just trying to fill the silence. Give Cas something to answer, to talk about. He remembers back when Cas met him. And the first time Cas told him he had doubts, Dean thought that perhaps that was when he thought of Cas as a friend for the first time. They were young then, though, in a way. Can I tell you something if you promise not to tell another soul? Okay. I'm not a hammer, as you say. I have questions. I-I have doubts. I don't know what is right and what is wrong anymore. Their whole relationship ran on what if's and maybe's. A weird non-trust that ran deeper than people thought. Than even they thought.

After Cas' conspiracy with Crowley, Dean didnt really know if he could trust him completely anymore. But somehow he did. Because its Cas, the one that pulled him out of hell, the one that put him back together countless times. In Lucifers crypt he didnt kill him, that merited something, didnt it? But he'd still abandoned them more times than he could count. He was a strange, confused creature still.

Cas shrugged again, such a human action, "I would never have met you, probably. And I would have envied the angel who had the privelage to do so." "Thats...thanks Cas." "Because for all that you are a broken, flawed human," Cas goes on, "You are a good man."

Dean really had no idea what to say to that. Because Castiel never really said things that werent unintentionally offensive or sarcastic, and this was maybe even a compliment. So he doesnt say anything. He fiddles with the keys in his hands, and he's still tired but he feels like Cas has more to say. But the angel's silent. His eyes shut, fingers laced together where they lay on his stomach.

"I like the rain," he says, "The sound of it anyway. Its calming." Dean swore he saw him stiffle a yawn, but he couldnt have he's an angel. Still, he had said he's tired. Maybe he did need a couple hours to recharge. The past couple of weeks have been taxing on everyone. Angel or not. Dean grabs the musty old blanket from the backseat he'd been using for the nights he couldnt be bothered with a motel and throws it on the seat beside Cas. He looks up to Dean, at the blanket then back to Dean again, and its like a question as to why there's a blanket half on his thigh.

"Hey man," Dean shoves the keys in his pocket to stop his fiddling, "You look beat, just shut your eyes for a while. You're allowed a few hours off."

Cas accepts the blanket, if a little reluctantly, and opens it out over himself. He settles down against the door again with a quiet, barely there thank you in Deans direction. They're so far from the start. Six, seven years ago Dean would never have thought he'd be sitting in the car thats been home to him his whole life with an angel who he's been to Hell and back with, literally. He would never even have imagined he'd be going to Hell in the first place. And angels, well, he didnt even believe in them until about four years back.

Tell me somethin' Cas, he wants to say, Where's your home now? Down here with me or up there? If you have to choose, which you will at some point, where will you go?

He's loathe to admit, but Cas really is his best friend no matter how much history he has of lying and all that other bullshit. He's stuck with Dean somehow. Completely and utterly glued. Him and his damn trench coat that nobody can seem to get rid of. Sometimes he does wonder if Jimmy's still in there. Watching everything Cas does. What was it he said, chained to a commet? Dean can only imagine. What if when Cas eventually does go back, Jimmy's no longer Jimmy? What if he's just an empty shell Dean'll have to burn? He feels sick thinking about it. He'll cross that bridge when he comes to it.

"Dean, I..." Cas says just loud enough to be heard over the rain, "I'm sorry. If I hadnt..."

His eyes are half open, staring down at the footwell. He hikes the blanket up over his left shoulder only to let it fall again, shaking his head a little.

"Its okay, Cas. I know." He could say anything he wanted here, no one else is here to listen but Cas. And he's half asleep. He seems restless though, maybe too many things unsaid hanging between them. The fact still stands that if Dean wanted, he could spill his cowardly guts. He could tell Cas he mattered more than he thought, that he knew he was sorry and he was forgiven because Dean cared too much not to. He could slide closer and pull a little of the blankets over himself too, share his heat with Cas and make sure he wasnt cold. He knew he wasnt cold though. Angels didnt get cold.

Cas' sad eyes flicked up to his and away and he felt the guilt in them. Its heavy, and now Dean knows why Cas looks so tired, so full of this immovable sadness, but he doesnt know why its there. He's too scared to ask just in case Cas decides thats enough and he disappears again. He's glad of his company tonight.

"I have no right to ask but could you," the angel shifts under the blanket. Dean's waiting for him to say more, but all he does is look down at the seat between them and back up to Deans face like its a question in itself. A glance down shows Dean Cas' hand lying palm up on the leather and finally he gets it. "Its just- I'm tired and-"

He gingerly slides their palms together, "Sure. Okay." "Its a matter of a simple energy transfer, in laymans terms. I'm not sure an embrace would-" "Its fine, Cas."

Its totally fine. And Dean thinks that its more than just recharging his batteries, because the way his fingers squeeze just a little it seems like its a comfort thing too. He just thinks that Cas wont admit he needs a little help, a hand to hold. He wont admit he'd at least a little scared of whats coming next. Castiel's never been good with that, asking for help. And he's staring down at their hands on the seat in the barely there light, just like Dean, probably thinking the same thing too.

What happens next?

Nothing. Thats the answer. Jack shit happened and all there is in the world is the rapping of the rain on the hood and the roof over their heads. The rhythmic pattering of the water drumming down like the background music to their sad story that'll end bloody either way you look at it. And there'll be no happy ending to this. The day wont be saved, the there's no damsel in distress. There's only the bare fact that the only way this ends is with one or both of them going down. Dean knows this tune, knows how it ends.

Cas knows it too, he feels. He knows that at some point they're saying goodbye for one final sorry time. Dean doesnt know how much he cares about that though. Probably not much, even for an angel with too much heart.

Dean will admit though that he had thought about them, for a while. When Cas was human and it was a possibility that didnt seem so impossible. It seemed almost so close he could touch it. Closer than it'd been back when the apocalypse was imminent. When any day could be their last, when Dean was still fair game for an archangels vessel, when Sam was a hairs breadth away from Lucifer. When everything was easier.

"C'mere," he whispers eventually, after what seems like an age of switching between staring at interlocking hands and impossibly blue eyes. "Its a little cold-" which is a lie, "-and you'll recharge quicker."

It almost seems like a dream when Cas knows what he means and slides across the seats, letting go of his hand for half a second to settle under Deans arm and throw the blanket over both of them. He thinks he imagines the little contented sigh that escapes Cas' parted lips. Cas grabs Deans other hand between both of his own and the palms were strangely soft. Its not awkward though, like he thought it might be. Maybe because its just them. He doesnt care enough to bite out something at Cas for pulling his feet up on the seat and what dirt he's getting on it. His head is settled on Deans shoulder so close to his neck he can feel his breath huffing out on his collarbone. He didnt think angels needed to breathe, or that it'd be warm. But he swears that he feels a pulse thrumming under his skin. Maybe he isnt all back after all. Maybe thats good.

"Yeah," Dean mumbles, letting his cheek fall to Cas' perperually messy hair, "I miss the apocalypse." Cas shifts against him almost like he's getting more comfortable. If he was, he's planning to stay awhile. Dean tightens his arm on him and resists the urge to blurt out everything in his head right now. That would end in disaster, everything in there is contradicting everything else. He'd give anything for it not to be like it is.

"Dean I can hear your heartbeat. Whats wrong?"

"Nothin' Cas," and Dean has a stupid flyaway thought telling him to kiss him. Anywhere. Just to press his lips to his hair, his forehead, his knuckles, his mouth. He ignores it, pushes it aside for now. Leaves it till later, probably to resurface when he's lying alone in bed one night to whisper in his ear that he was a coward. That he should call Cas down so he could tell him exactly whats on his mind. But he never does. Never will.

Instead its Cas who raises his hand, presses Deans fingers to his lips. Its not even a kiss, he's just pressing skin to skin like its enough to tell Dean something.

He feels a sort of loss when he lowers them and says, "You forget I can sense what you're thinking, sometimes. If the desire is strong enough. Thats what you wanted, isnt it?"

He still fiddles with Deans fingers as he tells Cas yeah, he did. And he wants him to do it again, he wants more than a little kiss on his knuckles, more than a reassuring touch and an embrace. He's thinking things he never dared let out of the box in his head labeled 'Stupid Crap.' Its weird, to say the least.

Its not long before Cas gets wind of that too, and he's half in Deans lap with a forgotten blanket lying in the footwell while his mouth working with Deans like he'd forgotten everything else. His hand pushes up into Deans hair haphazardly, and Dean so badly wants it to go farther than this, but not in the front seat of a car. His hands are under the coat, and they've untucked Cas' shirt to push up under it over Cas' back. He's drawing little muffled, cut off whines from Cas' throat, half assed immitations of his name while Cas pushes his jacket from his shoulders, cups his face in his hands. Its been a long time coming. But that doesnt change anything. It cant last forever, not now at least. Cas tastes of something Dean cant name, and it almost feels wrong to be doing this with an angel but then he remembers Anna and it goes away.

Not before he feels a sharp tug on his hair and hears a low growl from Cas who's straddling his thighs and leaning close.

"I'd rather you not think of her while you're with me, Dean," his voice is so low and rough and dangerous, and Dean shouldnt be this turned on by Cas when he's sorta pissed. Hell, he shouldnt be turned on by Cas at all, but he is. Or the way his hand's pulling on his hair while the other lays across his jaw with his thumb caressing his lower lip. Theres something burning behind his eyes Dean hasnt seen in a long time.

Determination, an almost fury that Dean saw once when he tried to offer himself up to Michael. He's telling Dean who's in charge here and its Cas, _You should show me some respect. I dragged you out of Hell, I can throw you back in._ He doesnt doubt Cas will go farther to show him who's boss. Before he can apologise Cas is back to kissing like he couldnt stop if he wanted to. Which is crazy, because Cas shouldnt want to. But its pretty clear he does.

His heat, his almost too rough touches, its all evidence telling Dean he's so into this. At least if this doesnt work out, he can say one thing, that he's kissed Castiel, and they both liked it. Dean jumps when Cas' hand hits the seat by his head hard and his own hands go to Cas' waist like he can steady him somehow. Because he seems maybe even a little upset for some reason, his hand punches the seat again but with less force this time. He's stopped moving, stopped kissing him and is just taking ragged breaths that ghost over Deans neck in the quiet that follows.

"I'm sorry," he says, making a move to slide out of Deans lap but Dean dares to hold him in place. He looks down at Deans chest where his collar lies open just enough to show off his tattoo. "I'm sorry, that was selfish of me."

Dean frowns at him, his hands firmly on his waist to stop him moving away. A vain attempt, he knows, because with a snap of his fingers Cas could be in London or Dubai if he wanted. He's a big powerful thing that Dean cant hope to control.

"Its fine. Dont you go disappearin' on me."

Stop saying its fine because its not!

Cas' gaze flickers up to meet Deans and his hands busy themselves, fixing Deans collar, down the front over the buttons for no particular reason, and the left is back up in his hair again, just carding through it like its the simplest thing in the world.

"I took what I wasnt allowed," he says eventually, sitting back on Deans thighs, "I'm selfish, forgive me."

"Of course but wait a sec, I thought you were doing that cos I wanted?" It was an unintentional question and Dean's thumbs are kneading at Cas' hips while the angel shuts his eyes and lets his hands come to rest at the side of his neck.

"I cant disappear," Cas mumbles, "My energy is fading. I thought that touching you would draw some of it back, but even close contact...it isnt working. I dont understand."

Dean has to know, just to be sure, "And the kiss?"

Cas breathes out slowly, "I needed to. I didnt seem to care whether you wanted to or not." "I thought you did it cos I wanted." He huffed a small laugh then. His hand goes to the side of Deans face to touch gently. Dean's always surprised when he finds Cas staring right into his eyes with his own brilliantly blue ones. They're too blue to be real, but then again, its a little unreal to have a real live angel sitting across your thighs in a not so innocent way.

"No, I couldnt tell," he pauses, frowning, "I only knew you were thinking of Anna-" he sort of curls his lip up in a halfhearted snarl at the name, "-because your mind is less guarded when you're...otherwise occupied. I wasnt sure if it was me you were reacting to or just the sensation."

Dean leans forward and nuzzles Cas' neck out of little else to do and no idea how to react right now. Cas doesnt seem to mind anyway. If anything he endorses it, holds Deans head close and tips his head back to allow him better access to his throat. He kisses there, again and again and again. He hears Cas make a low sound in the back of his throat, his fingers curling into Deans hair. He just wants him and only him.

"Was you, believe me," he murmurs into the skin under Cas' ear, daring a playful nip, "Definitely you."

"Dean," he says once, "Dean, I-" "Dont say it," he knows what Cas is going to say and he cant bear to hear it, not now, not here in this goddamn car in the middle of the night with the rain hammering down on the roof, "Please, not here."

He pushes his face into Cas' neck and refuses to come out no matter how Cas coaxes him and pets at his hair. Its too big and scary to even think about, he cant...

"After this is all done," he says, and its muffled into the collar of Cas' shirt, "When half of us are dead and gone, if we're still here...will you stay?"

Cas bends his head with a pitiful sound, his forehead meets Deans shoulder and his cheek rests against his ear. He clings tighter to Dean, fingers curling into his hair gentle as he ever was. "Dean I..." he swallows, "You know as I do, we dont even know if any of us will come out of this alive."

This whole thing is ridiculous, Dean knows. The very fact Castiel is sitting here with him like this is a fucking impossibility. He wants to call this angel every endearment under the sun, make him know he's loved well and truly. He wants to touch every inch of his skin and maybe mark him up a little if he'll let him.

In another universe that didnt have all this crap going on, he'd be normal. He'd meet Cas at college, or at the grocery store and they'd talk, exchange numbers, go on dates and be normal. Maybe they'd be highschool sweethearts, or they'd meet under hilarious circumstances. Anything but this painful way that no one will have a happy ending.

They met in Hell, they stopped the apocalypse, they went to Purgatory and back. Surely that merits a free pass, at least one good break? But no, God's washed his hands long ago. Between their first meeting and now they've gone through so much shit and now Dean's forced to face the painful, agonising truth.

That he does in fact feel something for his angel, that they'll never get to have anything bigger than outside this car. Once Dean starts driving again its finished.

"I would stay," Cas whispers to him, lips on the shell of his ear, "I would stay for you, Dean Winchester. If I am given the choice, I will stay. I promise you."

He laughs halfheartedly, "If only we'd figured this out before now, we might've had more time." Cas sits back on his thighs and takes his face between two wide palms, Dean cant look away from the blue staring back at him. He's glad its just the two of them, they rarely got moments like this.

"We still have time. We can still make up for the time we wasted." He pauses a second, cocking his head just a little, desperate for reassurance. "Cant we?"

"Cas," it hurts to admit, but they have to face the hard truth, "I- I dont know if we can. If this whole thing goes tits up... Hell, even now-"

"Shut up," Cas is kissing him again, "Shut up, please," he speaks between half desperate kisses, "It'll be okay. It has to be okay. Its always okay. Tell me it'll turn out okay."

"I cant-"

"Then have sex with me," blunt as ever, Cas cut him off, "If we only have now, lets take it." Dean says his name quietly like a prayer, and stills the angels roaming hands, clasping them between his own palm to palm. He doesnt say anything and neither does Cas but somehow they know. Cas knows Dean wont do it here in the front or back of the car, and Dean knows that Cas doesnt really want to either and he's just grasping at straws.

"You understand why I wont."

"It wouldnt be right," but Cas still doesnt look at him, staring down at their hands instead. He's quiet for a long time and Deans starting to think that Cas is angry with him, and the angels shoulders just droop and he inhales sharply. He lets out a trembling breath too, Dean pretends he didnt hear it. Because hearing it would mean Cas actually did it.

"This is fucked up," Cas half sobs, Dean cant pretend he didnt hear this time, "This whole thing is so fucked up."

He lets him curl close to his chest and hide his face while he makes halfhearted, sorrowful sounds that if he had the energy would probably be cries of pain. Little, shuddering exhales are so loud in the quiet car. Dean doesnt see how but he seems to find a little comfort in Deans arms. Which is crazy. But the world is a crazy place. He holds him tight, and he kisses his hair over and over telling him how sorry he is that it turned out this way. Dean pulls the coat tighter on Cas, praying to whatever god remained that it'd turn out okay for his sake, for Cas' sake. For all their sakes.

"Do you still believe in Him?" Dean asks, his voice surprisingly unsteady. He thinks it sounds close to tears too, but tonights not a night for him to be doing that.

Cas shakes his head, "He's not there to believe in." He lets out a slow breath, kisses the hollow of Deans throat, "If I believe in anything, I believe in you."

And if Deans heart doesnt skip a beat not for the first time tonight. What does he say to that?

"Thanks Cas. We'll be fine," he lied, because he doesnt know what'll happen, "We'll work something out, we always do."

"I just want to stay here," Cas traced delicate patterns onto Deans chest, and he wished it wasnt how it was.

That they were back home in Deans bed or in the kitchen or anywhere in that bunker because in the middle of assfuck nowhere isnt the best for anyone right now. This moment doesnt belong in here, it belongs in a home.

"I know."

Cas lowered his voice like someone would hear, "I want to say I love you but I dont know how." Dean almost laughs, almost kisses Cas because its a silly thing to say when he just said it out loud, but he sort of gets it. In a weird, impossible way. He gets it.

"And do you?"

"Yes," he replies earnestly, shifting out of Deans lap only to swing his legs across his thighs. He curls against Deans side, nosing at his neck, "I surely love you."

Cas' love is a young one, but its age old too.

Thats what makes it special for Dean to have it declared in no uncertain terms here. He doesnt think he'll ever say something that'll equate to it. But he's scared too, because after they drive off, what happens? Do they forget about this? Do they bury it until another day? Do they keep going but keep it quiet, meeting in secret like some crappy TV show couple?

Cas is already starting to give in to drowsiness, going heavy on his side, his shoulder. So Dean takes his hand, laces their fingers together and puts his lips to Cas' forehead once, then his ear to whisper his secret to him. A little quirk of a smile flickers for a second on Cas' face, but its gone again. He listens to Cas breathe for a long time, slowly in and out like this man is the most important thing in the world. He is to Dean. Oh God he is.

He doesnt want to lose this.


End file.
